From Esquire, January, 1993 

Lost in the funhouse: toke the bong slowly; life in Austin, Texas 

by Michael Hirschorn

The lead singer of Course of Empire is howling, "Therearetoomanyofus,
therearetoomanyofus," as a sweaty, roiling mass of kids jostle and mosh in
the overheated darkness. In terms of cultural dislocation, it doesn't get
any more jumbled than here - this postpunk band is opening for the
militant rap group Public Enemy, but the location doesn't compute. 

We're in a club on a commercial strip in suburban Austin, Texas, the
audience composed of nearly equal parts rat-tailed, fade-coiffed mall
trash (rasty jeans cut off below the knee, slashed T-shirts, and army 
boots) and prepped-out University of Texas frat boys (rasty jeans cut 
off below the knee, slashed T-shirts, and Reeboks), the crowd 90 percent 
white, but a couple of them yelling, "Fuck tha police" at some nonplussed 
cops who are probably their dads. A local says progressive Austin is as 
segregated as anywhere else, but thanks to hours spent homestylin' in 
front of MTV, the kids are just ace at their South Bronx swagger ("Yo, UT 
homeboyz in the house! Boyeeeeeee!"). 

[the rest of the article is about Richard Linklater and Austin]